Shear Point
by The Halfa Wannabe
Summary: The same moment in time can have many different outcomes just by the injection of a single thought. Taylor comes out of the locker with a different ability and new traumas to overcome. Can she hold herself together long enough to save the world? Tinker Taylor
1. Start Up 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Worm, but I would love to own Taylor.

 **Start Up 1.1**

She blinked, her vision blurry as she came to on the floor, the smell still surrounding her and her limbs burning in pain from where her muscles had cramped up hours ago. She experimentally stretched her arm, wincing as the muscle protested the movement. _"How did I get out?"_ She turned her head, the loss of her glasses and the darkness keeping her from being able to see any fine details

The locker was open. She carefully began to move, each movement being met with stabs of pain as she felt around for her glasses. She hissed as she found the broken lenses on the floor. She clutched her hand around the wound as she picked herself up and pressed against the lockers, her breath heavy as she used it for support.. Thankfully she didn't need her eyes to make it to the front doors. She pressed her hand to the locker and pushed herself the rest of the way to her feet as a tingle caused her arm to surge with cold. She slowly crept forward, hoping it wasn't too late to catch a bus. Brockton Bay's public transport was well designed, but it wasn't the kind of place you went out after dark unless you lived in one of the rich areas, or unless you were looking for trouble.

Her aching legs slowly loosened up as she moved to the door and pressed against it. Unsurprisingly it was locked. Again the tingling in her arms as she desperately pushed the door's push bar before pressing her head to the door in defeat, the gold of the door quickly spread forcing her to push away and inadvertently causing her to fall down the front steps as the door suddenly came free in front of her. She groaned as she stood, her knees and hands aching from the snow covered concrete.

She looked in front of her, the darkness spread, the neighborhood dark and the moon high in the sky, visible despite her bad vision. An idea briefly surfaced while she thought of the various satellites up there before the wind blew past her, chilling her despite the layers that had kept her warm that morning. She took off in the direction of home, hoping the gangs had the good sense to stay in because of the weather, her will only took her so far before she collapsed on the ground. The chill binding her joints as she curled in on herself.

* * *

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" She felt the shaking at the same time as she felt the hand invading her pockets.

"Come on, let's go. We got the bitch's wallet and we'll call an ambulance." She heard a second voice say, a female voice.

"Yeah alright. Let's get out of here." The first voice said. She groaned before passing out again.

* * *

She felt a lifting sensation as she was shifted onto something hard. " She felt herself placed some where warmer and sighed as she heard a snip snip snip snip and felt part of her arm uncovered. "Shit, what's wrong with her face?"

"Where the fuck's the needle?"

"Shit she's one of them."

"Call it in.'

The room swam around her.

* * *

" a case 53 you think?" A slightly muffled woman's voice said.

"They've been getting rarer, she's not a known one anyways but we've seen a similar ability." A familiar male voice said.

Taylor groaned and tried to open her eyes as a before giving up and falling unconscious once again.

"she'll need specialized furniture if she's anything like him. It won't be easy."

"It never is Hann-. Hold on." It was a few minutes before he spoke again. "We have a positive ID. Her name is Taylor Hebert, a missing person's report just got put into the system with the police. Says here she's been missing since she went back to school after winter's break."

"The Winslow case you think?"

"Possible. Some triggers can be quite damaging and she was found the next morning. Explains why there's no mark, she was just unfortunate."

"I'll pick him up in one of the unmarked cars." She said.

The man grunted. "I'll send you the address once you're"

She didn't hear the rest of the conversation as exhaustion caught up with her.

* * *

Taylor groaned as her eyes opened, the room around her coming into focus a bit despite the blurry edges. "-er" She started to cough as her dry throat spasmed. "Water" she managed to rasp out.

She felt a glass pressed against her lips as she looked over her father looking down at her. "It's gonna be okay Little Owl, you're okay now, you're safe." She could see the tears and exhaustion in his face as he moved closer and kissed her forehead.

Her eyes closed and opened again, wearily, not sure if she'd been awake or if she'd passed out, as she moved her head she saw her dad sitting in a chair reading a sheaf of papers. "What happened?" She whispered at him.

Another male voice responded. "That's what we'd like to know."

Taylor turned her head to the side, her mouth widening in an O of surprise as she stared at two of her 3 favorite heroes. Armsmaster and Miss Militia. After a moment of reeling her mind finally managed to force the words out of her mouth. "W-what do you mean?"

The heroine with a knife in her hand, (not that she was ever without a weapon) responded. "You were found in an alley Wednesday morning at half past four. Do you know how you got there?"

Taylor thought for a moment, her brain connecting the threads of what she did remember, wanting to explain it all but tired and disoriented she only said, "I walked."

Armsmaster stood there, imposing as he ever was, a veritable wall of muscle underneath his armor that seemed deserving of a brute rating by itself. "From Winslow?"

Coughing her dad got up, and interposed himself between her and the heroes. "Couldn't we do this later, she's just woken up."

The woman with her face covered in an american flag bandanna put her hand on her father's shoulder. "This really does need to be answered quickly, before she forgets Mr. Hebert. It's only a few questions. We'll be quick."

Armsmaster watched her deal with the father, he'd never been accused of being personable, like most tinkers he was more at home in a workshop than with people.

Taylor looked at him and gulped. "Y-eah. From Winslow." She coughed again, a strange constriction in her throat making itself known.

Armsmaster looked at her. His jawline tense. "And why were you there in the middle of the night destroying lockers?"

Her father tried to protest but Miss. Militia's hand dug into his shoulder holding him back and keeping him from interfering.

"Somebody, pushed me into my locker, it was full of, stuff, bloody tampons and fruit and rotting stuff. I puked and was pushed in. I tried to push the door open, but I was stuck, I couldn't move and nobody came to see who was shouting. The smell was getting to me." Taylor's voice slowly began to crack and her eyes started to water. "I screamed myself hoarse, my legs started to burn, things were crawling on me, I don't know how long I was in there before the need started, I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't. I felt it trickle down my leg, the smell only got worse. I wanted a cell phone anything to call for help and" she began to choke up, fully immersed in the memories.

"STOP!" Danny pulled away from her and pushed Armsmaster away as he folded Taylor into his arms. Armsmaster for once didn't push as the father comforted his daughter. He had no doubt she'd just described her trigger event, something all capes had in common and thus most understood just how horrific and traumatizing it could be. It was also painfully clear that her changes were not the result of being a case 53. _"Too bad. She'd be the first on record to remember."_

After a few minutes of calming Taylor down Armsmaster put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "She needs to know."

Taylor looked up at him her cheeks stained with twin red streaks. "Know what?" Danny Hebert looked at his daughter, and then to the hero before nodding. Miss Militia walked forward her knife now longer and thicker, A machete instead of the blade it had been, she angled it for Taylor to look into.

And then Taylor screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Taylor stared at her reflection, horrified by the image reflected in the mirror like surface of the machete. She reached out, her hand gently turning the blade for different angles, she shuddered as she saw the numerous lines of metal running up and down her arm, occasionally crisscrossing in areas mottled a dark greenish gray color at odds with the rest of her still human skin tone. The fact that those same lines an patches covered her face was even more horrific. A low keening came from her as she examined her face. Her left eye had been completely surrounded by the dark gray tissue, even her eye color had been affected, her once hazel eyes now mismatched with one a dark blue. The red steaks from her crying made the whole thing even more horrific.

Taylor had never considered herself especially vain, she was plain looking and okay with that, but the image before her was something she couldn't reconcile. "I'm a monster." She whispered. The "tears" started again, the red running down her face staining it further as Danny tried to get her attention.

"aylor Taylor TAYLOR!" Her eyes tore from her image as Miss Militia pulled the blade away and her father hugged her. "No, no you're not a monster sweetie, you're not, you never could be." He just continued the frenzied whispers of support as Armsmaster and Miss Militia watched on for a second before walking out of the room.

* * *

Hannah looked over at Colin as they sat across from each other slowly sipping their coffees. "Either way this goes she's going to need therapy" she said after taking a sip.

"Only a few a viable options for her. Wards and a return to normal life will require help. Could become a villain, those like her without access to mental health care have a 62 percent chance of going down that road at least for a year or two. A further 22 percent beyond that attempt to take their lives within a matter of weeks. In some ways, the case 53s have it easier. They don't remember before they changed."

Miss Militia nodded knowing the figures. "I'll put in a request for a therapist to come down and speak with her."

Arnsmaster nodded. "Good. I'll talk to her about joining the wards. If she's anything like Weld she'll be a considerable asset." He got up to leave before feeling Hannah's hand holding him back. "No. Not before the therapist. No pressure Colin. She's close to breaking already."

Colin looked at her for a moment then nodded. He was well aware of his own deficiencies. "You handle it then. Be lead on her case. I'll start looking into who nearly killed her. Shadow Stalker goes there, she may have some insight."

Miss Militia's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. Given her own issues I doubt she bothers to notice anybody accept people she can acceptably target." She got up and looked at her team mate, her friend even sometimes. "Anyways I'm going to call Carol, maybe Panacea can give us a better idea of what's happening to Taylor than merely absorbing metal."

Walking together a short way toward's their offices Armsmaster spoke up. "Not just metal. She absorbs some forms of plastic too. I lost part of a gauntlet trying to get some readings. That's why we're only using passive sensors now."

Miss Militia winced. The girl was in some ways even worse off than Weld. The two split apart heading in opposite directions.

* * *

Sophia glared as she walked down the halls of the PRT building. Most of the Protectorate ENE had offices here for when they were dealing with routine paperwork, and minus some specialized functions it was rumored that the refurbished oil rig was more a decoy than anything else. Not that Sophia could really speak on it having not stepped foot on it. Despite her inclusion in the Wards she was first and foremost on probation and not nearly trusted enough to be allowed in the super secret headquarters. At least that's what Sophia thought of it as. _"Probably just where they go when they wanna hold hands and all the stupid shit I'm supposed to be doing with the kiddies."_

She knocked on the door and waited impatiently before it opened, revealing Armsmaster's bulk shifting through some of the paperwork that had built up while no doubt tinkering on something or over. "Yeah what?"

He looked up at her. "Sit. I've been looking through some of your reports on the state of Winslow. Given it's one of the gangs' main recruiting grounds I'm wondering at the lack of information in your reports. Explain."

Sophia sat in the chair dread shooting through her. "There isn't much to report. I've identified four suspected capes within the school, two merchants selling, one of which I scared off. I've got a friend watching the other in classes she has with him writing down the names of anybody she sees interacting with him on more than one occasion. There aren't too many there who fit the Aryan ideal but I keep an eye on them, I just haven't seen anything suspicious."

Armsmaster watched her. "Any other crime you've seen or heard about?"

Something in his tone set warning bells off in her head. "Well, there was the destruction of the lockers. But I wasn't there for that."

Armsmaster made a note. "Thank you. What's currently unknown is that their was a victim in the destruction of the lockers. A Taylor Hebert. Given the resulting injuries and the way the lockers were destroyed we've classified it a parahuman crime. That means it's under our jurisdiction. I know you've cultivated contacts, look into it, see if you can dig anything up." Armsmaster watched the biometric analyzer in his helmet and saw her heart rate spike. _"Hmm. Never seemed to be the nervous type."_

Sophia nodded, her throat suddenly dry. _"Shit shit shit shit shit. If Hebert talks I'm dead."_ "Yes sir. I'll get right on it." She stood up and moved out of the room feeling less like the predator and more like the prey for the first time in a long while. _"FUCK FUCK!"_

* * *

Amy sighed as her sister set down in front of their house. She'd been in a bad mood since gym when one of the girls had asked if she could give her a boob job. Answer, "Yes. "Will you?" "No." Girls like her loved to forget that before she was famous that they made fun of her for being ugly when compared to her sister. Amy snuck a look at Vicky. _"Not that they're wrong."_ she thought as her eyes roved over Vicky's legs and moved upwards. _The things I want to do to that. NO, BAD!"_ She sighed, used to having to censor her thoughts about her sister. They didn't do her any good and would only hurt more in the long run. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't find other girls attractive, but Vicky wasn't just hot, she was her best friend.

Amy shrugged her bag off her shoulder happy for a day off. She'd probably end up at the hospital later anyways but she'd take the time she could to relax before her conscience began it's usual tirade about how lazy she was, how selfish. How disgusting it was every time she considered making a teeny mistake.

She groaned when she heard her mother, _"No, Carol."_ call her.She moved towards the kitchen. "Yeah?"

Carol looked over at the Marquis' daughter. "Miss. Militia called earlier. They'd like you to take a look at someone, said something about needing your powers to figure her out."

Amy groaned internally, it wouldn't do for Carol to see hesitation. She'd been looking forward to laying down on her bed and just conking out for an hour or so. "Alright, I'll get dressed and have Vicky take me over. She'll probably want to see Dean anyways. Amy snorted for a second. Even ignoring her feelings about her sister's boyfriend the two were quite saccharine at times.


End file.
